If my review were to confine itself to the first few chapters, I would be shouting from the rooftops in praise of an intimate look at life as experienced from a student in a reform school in the deep south during the 1960s. The genius of the writer was in getting me into the body shell of a survivor of a ‘school’ that got away with abuse and murder for more than a hundred years. Mind you, it is a novel of fiction, but is based on a real school and is told so well that many will forget it is a work of fiction.
However, my review is based on the entire book. Bearing in mind that four stars is high praise, I don’t want you to get the impression that this is not a terrific read, because it is. For many readers, it will, or should become a transformational read. The author doesn’t bludgeon us with horror. Rather, he slips us into the scenes and memories. So, why lower the rating to four stars?
It tends to get mired down into sadness and misery. Not in an especially depressing manner, though. Had it become depressing, I would have lowered my rating still further.
I guess what I’m expressing is actually almost a confession. I grew up in Southern California in a small town that, during the fifties and sixties, boasted of its ‘success’ in remaining wasp. Most residents would have sworn that they had not a single racist bone in their bodies. They would have decried the segregation and inhumane treatment of blacks in the south. Yet, they took pride in a police force that boasted of picking up men passing through town after working at the local cement factory and releasing them at the town’s boundary with Watts. Yet, that very city went on to survive, even thrive, during integration once the real estate folks were forced to sell without discrimination. It even, for a second time in its history, became an “All American City.”
So, what I am getting at is this: Colson Whitehead has put together a narrative, based largely on fact, and weaved us an intimate tale of life, and death, of young men who made mistakes in judgment while pursuing simple pleasures taken for granted by children in more affluent neighborhoods, and who were then punished more severely for their lapses in judgment than were white children guilty of equally poor judgment.
Perhaps the brief excerpt will better explain my meaning…
BLUSH FACTOR: The eff-word pops up now and then, so you may want to be choosy when deciding to whom you will share this novel. Still, the insight you will gain into life for a young black person growing up in America, especially during segregation will outweigh concerns for language.
WRITING & EDITING: Mechanically, first rate editing and the writing is solid.
EXCERPT
‘…Flipping pages during lulls. Elwood’s shifts at Marconi’s provided models for the man he wished to become and separated him from the type of Frenchtown boy he was not. His grandmother had long steered him from hanging out with the local kids, whom she regarded as shiftless, clambering into rambunction. The tobacco shop, like the hotel kitchen, was a safe preserve. Harriet raised him strict, everyone knew, and the other parents on their stretch of Brevard Street helped keep Elwood apart by holding him up as an example. When the boys he used to play cowboys and Indians with chased him down the street every once in a while or threw rocks at him, it was less out of mischief than resentment.
People from his block stopped in Marconi’s all the time, and his worlds overlapped. One afternoon, the bell above the door jangled and Mrs. Thomas walked in.
“Hello, Mrs. Thomas,” Elwood said. “There’s some cold orange in there.”
“I think I just might, El,” she said. A connoisseur of the latest styles, Mrs. Thomas was dressed this afternoon in a homemade yellow polka-dot dress she’d copied from a magazine profile of Audrey Hepburn. She was quite aware that few women in the neighborhood could have worn it with such confidence, and when she stood still it was hard to escape the suspicion that she was posing, waiting for the pop of flashbulbs.
Mrs. Thomas had been Evelyn Curtis’s best friend growing up. One of Elwood’s earliest memories was of sitting on his mother’s lap on a hot day while they played gin. He squirmed to see his mother’s cards and she told him not to fuss, it was too hot out. When she got up to visit the outhouse, Mrs. Thomas snuck him sips of her orange soda. His orange tongue gave them away and Evelyn half-heartedly scolded them while they giggled. Elwood kept that day close.
Mrs. Thomas opened her purse to pay for her two sodas and this week’s Jet. “You keeping up with that schoolwork?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I don’t work the boy too hard,” Mr. Marconi said.
“Mmm,” Mrs. Thomas said. Her tone was suspect. Frenchtown ladies remembered the tobacco store from its disreputable days and considered the Italian an accomplice to domestic miseries. “You keep doing what you’re supposed to, El.” She took her change and Elwood watched her leave. His mother had left both of them; it was possible she sent her friend postcards from this or that place, even if she forgot to write him. One day Mrs. Thomas might share some news.
Mr. Marconi carried Jet, of course, and Ebony. Elwood got him to pick up The Crisis and The Chicago Defender, and other black newspapers. His grandmother and her friends subscribed, and he thought it strange that the store didn’t sell them. “You’re right,” Mr. Marconi said. He pinched his lip. “I think we used to
Whitehead, Colson. The Nickel Boys (pp. 22-24). Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group. Kindle Edition.
BOTTOM LINE
Readers who are open to a narrative that deals with sadness and hints of tragedy, but vacant violence and suspense, will probably find “Colson Whitehead’s “The Nickel Boys” to be an entertaining, educational, way to gain some understanding of life for your typical black kid during the sixties. The time spent will make the reader the richer for his/her investment.
It might not change the world, but, for that reader, it might well change his view of the world.
Four stars out of five.
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This novel won the 2020 Pulitzer Prize for fiction as well as the Kirkus Prize for fiction and the National Book Award for fiction. I approach these type of novels with long lists of accolades like this with trepidation, mostly because I’ve found I haven’t really enjoyed most of them. The same could be said for recent Oscar winning Best Picture movies (I’m looking at you, Green Book) or Grammy winning best albums of the year (I’m glaring at you, Morning Phase by Beck). With the exception of The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay, I haven’t enjoyed many of the recent Pulitzer Prize winners for fiction. They have left me wanting. Until now. The Nickel Boys is fantastic and well-deserves the Pulitzer Prize for fiction. With wide, impressionistic swathes, it paints a harrowing picture of a racist boys institution in Florida during the early to mid-twentieth century, and it does a masterful job in an efficient 200 pages.Judges of the Pulitzer Prize called the novel "a spare and devastating exploration of abuse at a reform school in Jim Crow-era Florida that is ultimately a powerful tale of human perseverance, dignity and redemption." It tells the story of Elwood Curtis, a smart, quiet, and inquisitive Black boy from Tallahassee, Florida, the kind of boy who would read encyclopedias for fun, if he owned a set. But he is also naïve and too easy-going. On his way to college, he hitchhikes in the wrong car, and is sentenced to Nickel Academy for being in a stolen car. There, he befriends a boy named Turner, and their hellish life at the racist school is revealed. Elwood and Turner are very different but ultimately very similar, too, as we learn throughout the book. By the end, you will wonder how they even got that far. Nickel Academy is Hell on Earth.Whitehead has a marvelously observant eye, as seen here when he introduces Elwood’s boss at a local tobacco shop. “Mr. Marconi left his perch by the register as seldom as possible. Squat and perspiring, with a low pompadour and a thin black mustache, he was inevitably disheveled by evening. The atmosphere at the front of the store was stringent with his hair tonic and he left an aromatic trail on hot afternoons. From his chair, Mr. Marconi observed Elwood grow older and lean toward the sun, veering away from the neighborhood boys…” Ever so keen on details, Whitehead also shows restraint at other times, giving sparse but descriptive details, allowing the reader’s imagination to fill in some of the horrific events without bogging the reader down in the ugly details. If you’re in Hell, what’s the point of describing the details of window dressings?? Whitehead can paint a detailed picture with few strokes. Genius.Whitehead describes Elwood’s observations of racism at Nickel as “an indiscriminate spite, not a higher plan.” And that there makes the hellish abuse of Nickel crueler and ever more undeserving to a smart boy like Elwood. He still tries to find the joy in speeches by Martin Luther King, Jr. and hopes to find the deliverance of King’s promise. But his friend Turner thinks the best thing to do is avoid evil like an obstacle course. What’s the best course of action?There is no better time than now to read The Nickel Boys, a magnificent novel that begs you to stare at the ugliness of racism and demands an empathetic response.I loved this novel and I highly recommend it. I would give this novel 5 stars.
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